


with sunbeams at their fingertips

by SublimeDiscordance



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Becketcest - Freeform, Christmas, Domestic, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Gagecest, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Angst, Multi, Sibling Incest, Unofficial Sequel, and there is a cat, so I suppose pet fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4496628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/pseuds/SublimeDiscordance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Axiom (noun): A universally accepted principle; A self-evident truth that requires no proof.</em>
</p><p>The Beckets showed up on the Gages' doorstep, priceless gift in hand. Now, as they keep asking Raleigh and Yancy to stay, Bruce and Trevin might have to deal with this silly little feeling that their house is more complete with the Beckets there than without.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with sunbeams at their fingertips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suyari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Distant Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807627) by [suyari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari). 



> This is a (very late) birthday gift for the lovely suyari, as well as an unofficial (but authorized) sequel to her Christmas gift to me.
> 
> (Wait does that make this a fanfiction of a fanfiction? Damn, this is getting too meta for me)
> 
> Unbeta'd.

The first time Bruce and Trevin ask them to stay, it’s easy. The obvious thing to do. The _right_ thing to do.

“Christmas is in just a couple of days, and—”

“—you shouldn’t have to spend the holidays, well, alone,” Bruce finishes his sentence for him, and Trevin would roll his eyes in annoyance ( _show-off_ , he finds himself thinking fondly) except for the fact that Bruce is actually saying the words. Out loud. His voice may be scratchy at times and he may get winded from going _down_ the steps, but it’s more than Trevin’s had in years. He’ll take it.

Doesn’t mean he can’t drive his fingers into Bruce’s ribs, though. Or that he can’t enjoy the way his brother twitches—ticklish bastard—and swats at his hand. Romeo lifts her head from where she’s resting on Bruce’s chest, glaring at both of them in turn, before settling back down and stretching her paws out.

“I mean,” Trevin feels the need to keep talking when Raleigh and Yancy continue to just sit by Bruce’s feet, looking between the two of them and each other, “it’s not like we don’t have the room, and it’d be nice to have others around, I think, for the holidays—”

“Hey!” Bruce chimes up weakly, but Trevin gives him another finger in the ribs for it, this one gentler.

“—and, I mean—”

Laughter. Raleigh and Yancy both burst into _laughter_ at the same time. It’s Yancy who speaks, though, shaking his head and wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders as if to steady himself.

“We’d love to stay.”

 

———

 

The downstairs smells of chocolate when Trevin helps Bruce down the steps. One of their parents’ old records, something fleetingly familiar in that way that tells Trevin it must’ve been played at some point when they were kids, is rustling away in the background. He recognizes Raleigh’s voice drifting from the kitchen, humming along to the words.

Huh. Three years serving together and he never even guessed the kid would be one for oldies.

_Full of surprises, isn’t he?_

The thought wanders across his mind, not his own, and Trevin glances sharply at Bruce.

“Did you just—?”

His brother shrugs.

“Guess so.”

“But how—”

“Morning, guys,” Raleigh’s smile is wide and as warm as the mugs of hot chocolate he pushes into their free hands, likely drawn by their talking. “How’d you sleep?”

“Romeo was pissed,” Bruce laughs, brushing Trevin's questioning glance off. “She still hasn’t quite figured out why her usual pillow keeps insisting on moving during the night. Or why her pawing at my chest actually wakes me up now.”

“Well, I mean, it’s only been a day,” Raleigh helps them the rest of the way into the living room, taking hold of Bruce opposite Trevin and ignoring Bruce's protests, "but this _is_ you we're talking about, Bruce, so I wouldn't worry."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trevin fusses over his brother, waiting until Bruce is distracted by talking to Raleigh to grab his still-steaming mug and setting both on the coffee table. "Trev, you don't have to—"

"Sit," Trevin points imperiously at the couch, grinning when Raleigh helps his brother down. "Take it _easy_ , Bruce. I only just got you back. Don't you dare hurt yourself on the first morning."

Though Bruce lets out a sigh deep enough to ruffle the steam rising off their hot chocolate, he apparently feels well enough to half heartedly reach for his mug with grabby fingers, making low whining noises. Trevin feels his smile tighten, his mouth twisting.

" _Bruce_."

"What? You told me—"

"You can _sit up_ on your own. Lazy ass."

Raleigh's laughter harmonizes with the record still scratching away.

 

———

 

At some point, Yancy comes downstairs and sits with them, visibly gravitating to Raleigh’s side. Romeo wanders down after him, and Trevin watches as she looks at him and Bruce, and then over to Yancy and Raleigh on the other end of the couch, before she hops up and settles in the cushions by Yancy’s head. Lets out a contented mowl and starts bathing herself.

“Traitor,” Trevin hisses at her. She pays him no mind, and Raleigh laughs at him, reaching around his brother to scratch her behind the ears.

 

———

 

Two hours later finds Bruce still sitting on the couch, Romeo purring contentedly in his lap last Trevin checked, while Trevin himself fusses around the kitchen, trying to make something simple, something relatively bland. Yancy had told them—after softly scolding Raleigh when he found out about the hot chocolates—that after being out for so long, Bruce’s sense of taste might be...different.

“It’s like how they say your tastes completely change every six years or whatever,” he’d told them. “While you’re unconscious, your taste buds keep changing, even if you aren’t doing anything with them. So things you used to like you might hate. And things you used to hate, you might actually end up loving now.”

“It’s true,” Raleigh had offered, elbowing his brother in the ribs with a smile. “Yancy loves broccoli now.”

He’d gotten an equally playful elbow back, a back and forth of "do not!"s and "do too!"s flying between them for a solid minute. Eventually, Yancy had smirked and sidled up behind Raleigh—who had been, at that point, stringing garlands twisted with lights about the whole living room, because apparently the Beckets didn't do anything halfway—and blatantly groped his brother. The moan Raleigh let out when Yancy leaned up and licked a stripe up the exposed skin at the back of his neck had been absolutely pornographic, and Trevin, who'd been helping Bruce string up the garlands for Raleigh's little project, had needed to stop for a moment and bite the inside of his cheek. Hard. The pain didn't stop the rush of arousal he'd felt, nor the blood that flooded his face, but he'd at least been consoled that he could feel—and see—Bruce having a similar problem.

It didn't help that the Beckets had since disappeared upstairs, Raleigh mumbling something about cheating older brothers, and hadn't been down for almost an hour.

“Do you remember Mom’s obsession with feeding us green beans?”

Trevin nearly trips on his way from the stove to the fridge, caught up in the silence and his own head. Catches himself on the island before he gets too far.

“Sorry,” Bruce pipes up again, and Trevin can tell without looking that Bruce isn’t even looking his way, “didn’t mean to, y’know, I just—

“No, it’s fine,” Trevin gestures with his hand, wiping away whatever apology he’d been about to get. Knows Bruce knows he does it. Smiles. Knows Bruce feels that, too. Can feel Bruce’s answering smile, the phantoms of Romeo’s fur and the warmth of her belly on his fingertips. She’s such a goddamn lap cat. “I remember. She was so happy I liked them. Disappointed you didn’t.”

 He opens the fridge, searching for the cream—he’s almost positive he bought some the last time he went shopping. “Why?”

Feels Bruce’s shrug in his own shoulders. Blinks to make sure his own didn’t do so involuntarily—they hadn’t—before he does shrug and keeps looking.

“Not sure. Just thinking. Wondering, I guess.”

Trevin frowns, straightening, and lets the fridge door shut with a metallic whump and a soft hissing sound.

 _You can’t hide things from me, Bruce_ , he thinks at his brother. Has a quick moment of satisfaction when Bruce’s spine straightens, his brother blinking at the far wall. Finds he’d apparently stopped questioning _how_ he knows that, how they can feel these things about one another without consciously thinking about it. He takes the few steps necessary to turn the heat on the stove down before he crosses over to his brother. The couch creaks under him as he takes the hand Romeo hasn’t stolen in his own.

“You’re still the same person, Bruce.”

He doesn’t get an answer, at least not a verbal one. The chill at the back of his mind is enough.

“Hey, no, none of that,” brings the fingers in his grip up to his lips to kiss those familiar scarred knuckles, one of his hands cupping Bruce’s jaw. “I would know, alright?”

“Trev’, you—”

“I’ve been by your side since the very moment I was born,” Trevin cuts him off, the urge filling him to move his gentle kisses from knuckles to the lip that Bruce is gnawing on, never mind that right now words—words and the emotions behind them—are more important. “I’ve shared my entire life with you. Hell, I’ve shared my _brain_ with you. I _know_ you, Bruce.”

The hand on his brother’s jaw pulls, pushes, gentles, until their eyes meet. His thumb runs down the familiar curve, feels the muscles there fluttering.

“You lived in my head for _years_. You were the same person you’ve always been, even then. Even when you didn’t have a body of your own, or a voice that anyone else could hear, you were _you_. The you who pulled me outside to build snowmen whenever mom and dad would fight. The you who hated green beans no matter how much mom tried to make you eat them. The you who stood up to those assholes in sixth grade even though you got your ass handed to you—”

“Excuse you,” the watery chuckle his brother makes is everything, lifts a weight Trevin hadn’t even known he was carrying in his gut, “I knocked one of them out cold.”

“—even though you got your ass handed to you,” he continues with a soft smirk, “ _after_ you knocked out the one who gave me a black eye.”

Even if their minds hadn’t been entangled, Trevin’s fairly certain he’d have still managed to hear the mental _Damn right_.

“You were the same you I fell in love with before I even knew what love meant. And you’re still that person now. I can tell now,” he inclines his head, “remember?”

There’s a rush of breath against his wrist, Bruce’s eyes looking down for the briefest of seconds.

 _Okay_.

 _Good_ , Trevin smiles back. Leans forward to leave a kiss on the tip of Bruce’s nose, snorting out a laugh in his brother’s face when Bruce crosses his eyes to track the motion. Snorts again when Bruce _pouts_.

“Jerk.”

“You know you love—”

The front door opening cuts them both off, and Trevin’s standing, taking up a spot between his brother and the foyer, before he’s even thought about it.

“We’re home!”

Confusion echoes between their minds as Trevin strides towards the door, taking in the sight of Raleigh and Yancy kicking off their boots and...holding shopping bags?

“We thought you two were upstairs,” Trevin blurts.

The Beckets look at him, each other, then back to him. He watches as both of them bite their lips, jaws clenching, and jesus he should be annoyed but they both look so damn adorable trying to not burst out laughing that, well. The annoyance evaporates before it even begins.

“You, uh,” Raleigh breaks the silence, “you have a really cool roof outside the guest bedroom windows, did you know that? Should go stargazing some time.”

“You went on the _roof_?” Trevin tries to put some level of concern in his voice, but the smile threatening to split his face probably ruins it. He glances over his shoulder. “ _Bruce_?”

“ _No_ ,” Bruce calls from the couch, “no fucking way, you are not breaking your stupid neck for some stupid stars.”

“At least they’re not as stupid as your face!” Raleigh shouts around the corner, his smile infectious.

“Trev?”

“Yes, Bruce?”

“Would you mind dropkicking the runt for me?”

“What’s wrong?” This time it’s Yancy doing the shouting, grin matching his brother’s. “Feeble old-man legs not strong enough yet?”

“I swear, as soon as I—”

“Bruce,” Trevin laughs, “enough. And you, boys,” he points imperiously at the Beckets, “ _enough_. Go hide whatever you bought upstairs then come get lunch.”

Raleigh bristles, still smiling, shoving his bags behind his back.

“Who says we bought anything?”

“Says the fact that he isn’t blind,” Bruce answers for him. “And hurry up. I’m starving.”

“Crybaby.”

“ _Seriously_ ,” Trevin throws his hands up in the air, “ _children_.”

And maybe Yancy, Raleigh, and Bruce all team up against him and make “Daddy” jokes for the next few hours. Maybe Trevin doesn’t really mind.

 

———

 

There’s something pawing at his nose. Trevin grumbles under his breath, eyes still shut, and makes a shooing motion with his hand.

“Go ‘way, Romeo. Sleep.”

The pawing continues, more insistently. Vaguely, Trevin registers Romeo’s soft meow coming from somewhere near his feet. He makes a disgruntled sound and another shooing motion.

“Yeah, sweetie, you’re hungry, I g’t it. Five more minutes.”

A voice, very distinctly _not_ Romeo the _cat_ , answers him, the pawing in time with the syllables.

“But Trev’, it’s christmaaaaaas!”

Trevin cracks an eye open, finding one Raleigh Becket hovering over him. He groans and shuffles the blankets about him, making sure Bruce is still covered. Reaches up with one hand and presses his index finger to the tip of Raleigh’s nose before turning over and winding himself about his brother’s still-sleeping form.

“There. Snooze button.”

There’s a laugh from the doorway before Yancy’s voice reaches him.

“Might as well just give up, Trev’,” he sounds tired but like he’s smiling. “Brat’s an early riser. _Especially_ on christmas. Mom eventually made a rule that he had to wait until it was at least light out before he was allowed to wake everyone up.”

Trevin hums for a moment before the words actually catch up to him. He blinks both eyes open, twists until he takes in Yancy propping himself against the doorway and Raleigh practically bouncing beside the bed. Feels a frown pull at his forehead even as he uses the hand that isn’t supporting his weight to rub at his eyes.

“And how’d that work out with living in Alaska, ‘xactly?” He glances over at the clock. 7:02.

“It _sucked_ ,” Raleigh makes a face at his brother, who just laughs. The sound is infectious, and Trevin doesn’t bother to contain the sleep-rough chuckles that slide from between his lips and shake the bed.

Bruce waking beside him is something he both feels and _feels_. The vaporous presence his brother had been solidifies into conscious thoughts—well, mostly conscious—as Bruce grunts something unintelligible before flinging an arm behind himself and smacking Trevin lightly across the chest.

“Shuddup. Sleeping.”

“I made bacon,” Yancy offers from the door. “And coffee. And french toast.” His smile gets a distant edge to it. “A real French person taught me.”

Bruce grunts again, this time rolling onto his stomach and getting his arms beneath him.

“Evil.”

“Plying us with food does not make Yancy evil,” Trevin corrects him gently, grin so wide he’s sure his face is going to cramp. Without even thinking about it, he shifts his weight so that he can ruffle Bruce’s hair. “It makes him smart.”

“Well, like Mom used to say, the easiest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Raleigh lets out a bark of a laughter, though Trevin could swear he hears something else behind it, that he sees something passing between the brothers at Yancy’s words. Files that away for further analysis, but later. Leans closer to his brother, whispering loudly.

“I think Yancy and Raleigh are trying to seduce us, love.”

Another grunt.

“Seduction later. Food first.”

“And presents!”

Trevin snorts.

“Yes, Rals. Presents, too.”

 

———

 

It isn’t until almost four hours later, all the gifts opened—all five of them, four put there by the Beckets some time last night—that Trevin even remembers his slip. When he pulls Raleigh aside after they both wander back into the kitchen for more eggnog—one of the presents from the Beckets, as it’d turned out, a slip of paper in a box telling them to ‘Check the fridge’—the _last_ thing he’s expecting is Raleigh to laugh in his face. It seems to be a habit both Beckets have.

“It’s _fine_ , Trev’. After everything we’ve all been through together, I think you’ve earned the right to call me whatever you want.”

It’s also the first time Trevin is consciously aware of either of the Beckets calling him by Bruce’s nickname for him. Somehow, it doesn’t sound wrong coming out of their mouths.

 

———

 

Raleigh insists on cooking dinner. Trevin, in turn, insists on helping him. When they finally carry steaming plates of food out to their brothers, it’s to find the coffee table shoved to the side and a fire crackling merrily in the previously-unused fireplace. Yancy and Bruce have both curled up under what looks like a mountain of blankets. Romeo’s purring at the top of said mountain is audible across the room.

Trevin doesn’t remember them owning that many blankets. For that matter, he doesn’t remember them owning any firewood. He looks between his brother, Yancy, and then finally to Raleigh. Raleigh who looks not at all surprised. Hopeful and giving him the strongest puppy dog eyes Trevin’s ever seen, but not surprised.

“Rals, it’s seventy degrees outside.”

“But it’s _tradition_ ,” Raleigh’s pouting and Trevin has to remind himself that twenty-seven year olds pouting should _not_ be adorable. “Christmas without a fire in the fireplace is like thanksgiving without a turkey. What’s the point?”

“But we’re in California, not Alaska.”

“That’s what I said, too,” Bruce pipes up from where he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Yancy, gently pushing and causing them both to sway. Trevin fixes him with a flat look, though Bruce doesn’t seem the slightest bit mollified.

 _You still helped him anyway_.

 _Helped is a strong word. More like I oggled Yancy’s ass while he arranged logs and struggled for a bit with the lighter_.

Trevin blinks for a moment before,

_Did you give him the shitty one? The one that never works?_

Bruce’s cat-like grin is answer enough.

“Stop being grinches, the both of you,” Yancy bumps Bruce right back as he sits up, making grabby hands towards his brother, “and give me food. I’m starving. Setting things on fire is exhausting.”

And, sure, it’s a bit warm, the four of them wrapped under the blankets and quilts. But there’s still something to it. To the soft sounds of their utensils on plates. The crackling of burning wood. The gentle rising and falling of the blankets as Bruce breathes on one side of him and Yancy on the other. The heat that radiates from both the flames and the place where Yancy’s arm is bumping his own.

It’s nice.

He feels like he could get used to it.

 

———

 

“Bruce, you don’t have to—”

“I _want_ to, Trev’. Just...let me, please?”

Though he sighs and leans back, Trevin keeps a firm grip on his brother’s hips, acutely aware of the shaking in the muscles under his fingers. Bruce follows him down, lips pressing together in a kiss that starts chaste and becomes something much more. That recruits tongues and teeth and all too soon Trevin finds that he could easily sink into the fantasy that this is like any other time they’ve done this, that everything is fine.

When Bruce pulls away, moving until their cocks slide over one another, even in the scant light Trevin can see, can _feel_ , how Bruce is breathing heavily. With excitement, yes, but also with exertion. And while he might hiss through his teeth and the sensation of skin on oversensitive skin, he can’t—

“Stop thinking so loud,” Bruce whines, letting out a rush of breath as he snaps his hips forward and groans, “and let me do this. Please.”

Trevin tries to say something, but Bruce’s mouth is on his again and the friction means that all he can do is grunt and moan past his brother’s lips. Even if his strength isn’t back, Bruce is certainly enthusiastic, and Trevin can feel the burning _need_ behind his eyelids that isn’t just his own, can practically taste the desire churning in both their guts. He can feel his pleasure cresting higher and higher, Bruce whimpering into his mouth—or maybe that was him, he can’t quite tell at this point—when a hand wraps around the two of them and gives them both a firm pump.

“Trev’,” Bruce leans down towards him, breath hot and ragged in Trevin’s ear, “Trev’, I need—”

Trevin doesn’t need to be told twice. Grips Bruce’s hips that much tighter and lets himself move, meeting his brother thrust for thrust. Tilts his head until tongue is tracing the shell of Bruce’s ear. Goes further until he reaches the point where his brother’s neck meets his skull, and sinks his teeth into the tendon there.

Bruce’s orgasm triggers his own, his world dissolving into a white-gold driftscape where all he knows is the gentle humming of Bruce’s presence above him. Their synced heartbeats thrumming in his ears. The catch-drag of his brother’s skin against his fingertips as his hands trace nonsense patterns over the circuitry scars he’s learned like scripture.

He’s content to sit like that forever, focusing on nothing and everything, mind blissfully blank, but he draws in a surprised gasp when Bruce’s hand starts moving on him again. Somehow, he’s still mostly hard, and it takes almost nothing to coax him back. He can feel Bruce’s own hardness throbbing against him, and he can’t help but laugh.

“Look at us, like being seventeen all over again.”

Bruce doesn’t answer except a low chuckle, holding Trevin’s gaze, the hand he has on him twisting lightly and getting another gasp. When he feels Bruce trace fingers through the cooling mess on his belly, though, said mess making him jump when it makes contact with his oversensitive flesh, he can’t keep going. Has to wrap a hand around Bruce’s wrist.

“Bruce, no, you just woke up—”

“Trev’, please,” Bruce blinks, his eyes shining in the dark, and something crashes over Trevin, something that feels a lot like desperation, “please, I know, I just—it’s been _years_ Trev’, I _need_ —”

“Bruce.”

A million thoughts are racing through Trevin’s mind. One hand on his brother’s cheek, thumb brushing away the wetness that refuses to fall, the other stilling the movements of his brother’s hands.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

But that just gets him a shudder and Bruce shaking his head.

“No, _please_ , Trev’, I have to—I need to _feel_ you again—”

Everything freezes. Crystallizes. Trevin sighs, his smile returning, the hand he’d had on his brother’s cheek migrating until his thumb is running over Bruce’s lower lip. Bruce takes the digit into his mouth with a whimper and a low grunt, one of his arms buckling a scant inch before he catches himself.

“It’s okay, Bruce,” he whispers, propping himself up, his thumb popping from Bruce’s mouth with a soft sound, “it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

It doesn’t take much to turn his brother over. To get himself situated so he’s hovering over Bruce now, so that his brother’s still dripping cock runs up and down the cleft of his ass. Bruce accepts his fingers readily enough, licking them with the kind of fervor Trevin remembers from before, an urgency that had always been equal parts annoying and endearing. Now, though, it just makes something molten swell in his gut.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers in Bruce’s ear, “gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take such good care of you, big bro, would _never_ hurt you.”

His spit-slicked fingers burn at only two, and jesus it has been a while hasn’t it? He keeps Bruce occupied with his tongue and teeth, leaving marks that will last, that Raleigh and Yancy will have no trouble spotting, as he fingers himself open. Has to take a moment, panting into his brother’s skin, when he slides the third finger in. Finds his own prostate and shivers, forcing his body into relaxing from the pleasure.

Though Bruce complains for all of two seconds when Trevin only has his mouth on him for a few moments, the complaints drop to nothing when Trevin aligns himself with his brother’s spit-slick cock and sinks down in one, slow motion. It burns, _fuck_ but it burns. Has to grit his teeth and remind himself that this is for Bruce, that Bruce _needs_ this, that he himself isn’t the one who’d been stuck, unable to feel _anything_ , for years on end.

When Bruce’s cock brushes his prostate, though, Trevin can’t help the sound he makes, or the way his legs shake and he sinks the last few inches down all at once.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Trev’, oh _fuck_ —” Bruce is scrabbling at his legs, at his body, at anything he can reach while Trevin tries to get used to having a dick in his ass again, tries to _adjust_. “Trev, please, I don’t think I can—”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. He lifts himself up, rocks himself back down, keeping the thrusts short, riding his brother in a fluid, continuous motion. Leans over to lave his tongue over the marks he’d left, whispering promises and filth over his brother’s skin in equal parts. Switches to riding Bruce _hard_ , his own dick bobbing between them, ignored as he steadies himself on Bruce’s shoulders. The pain isn’t completely gone, not really, and _fuck_ he is going to feel this tomorrow, but right now he really doesn’t give a fu—

“Oh _shit_ , _Trev’_ , I’m—”

He doesn’t get any more warning before he feels Bruce’s orgasm, in his mind and his body and his goddamn _soul_ , his brother exploding inside of him in more ways than one. His pace turns fucking _frantic_ , his brother’s hips slamming erratically into his through his orgasm, before Trevin’s coming for a second time, coating his brother’s belly with his release.

Though he allows himself to luxuriate in the feeling for a moment, maybe two, gives himself a moment to catch his breath, his ass eventually gives a twinge strong enough that Trevin hauls himself up and over, shoulder making contact with the bed. He can feel Bruce’s come leaking out of him, running down the back of his thigh, as he leans up to push back his brother’s sweaty hair and plant a kiss on Bruce’s brow..

“Love you, too,” Bruce pants back at him, and Trevin grins.

 _Missed you_.

He’s not sure which of them thinks it. Then again, he’s not sure it matters, either.

 

———

 

Though he tries to ignore it as Bruce’s soft snores fill the room, it isn’t long before he starts getting itchy where various fluids are still cooling on his skin. Trevin finally forces himself to sit up— _jesus fuck_ _ow_ —and slowly, wincing, plod his way to the bathroom to clean up. He’s covered in sweat and spit and come and has all three in places one normally doesn’t have those things and he really needs a towel, at the very least. A shower sounds lovely, but he doesn’t want to wake up either of the Beckets. so—

“Well, I see you’ve been busy.”

Though the words are light and joking, panicking is barely a strong enough word for what Trevin does at that moment. His blood runs cold, then hot, then cold again as he tries to turn too fast. The pain nearly blindsides him, shock driving away the steely wall that’d kept it out, and he stumbles into the nearest wall, letting out a soft gasp.

“Shit, Trev’,” Raleigh’s there a moment later, strong arms— _warm_ arms, his mind dully notes—wrapping around his shoulders, apparently unconcerned with Trevin’s nakedness, “I’m sorry. You okay?”

“I, uh,” Trevin can’t look Raleigh—he knows it’s Raleigh from the voice alone, from the youth that refuses to vanish—in the eye, feels his cheeks flaming as the panic wears off and embarrassment takes its place. He’d really thought no one else would be up. “Yeah, I, I just need the bathroom.”

He tries to push away from Raleigh’s arms, but the younger Becket doesn’t give him an inch, instead follows him, still supporting him. Trevin would probably rather die than admit it at the moment, but it really does help. And, well, Raleigh isn’t wearing a shirt. And, sure, he’s in love with Bruce, and, sure, he’s pushing fourty at this point, but he’s not _dead_. Raleigh Becket is...well, Trevin’s not strong enough to say that he doesn’t find the other man at least somewhat attractive. Or a lot attractive.

“Are you in _pain_?”

He hears the low undertone to the words as they enter the bathroom, the sounds bouncing strangely off the tile, and shakes his head.

“Nothing like that. We just, uh,” his face feels like blacktop at high noon, “we didn’t have lube ‘cause, y’know,” he tries to shrug but mostly ends up wincing as Raleigh sets him down on the edge of the bath, pushing the curtain aside, “we hadn’t really needed it for a while. And, well, things just kind of...happened.”

Raleigh gives him an unreadable look before he sighs. Trevin arranges himself so that he’s not putting too much pressure on the parts of him that ache.

“I understand.”

Raleigh turns to the sink and grabs a washcloth. Returns moments later with it in hand, kneeling down.

“May I?”

Trevin blinks. Blinks at Raleigh. At the washcloth. Down at himself. Back at Raleigh again. The other man is...serious. Looks almost determined, in a way. He nods.

“Okay.”

Raleigh nods back. Bites his lower lip as he shuffles forward. The washcloth is warm against Trevin’s skin, the water left behind cooling rapidly, the dual sensations relaxing any tension left behind. Raleigh starts on his chest, cleaning up the mess left behind there. Doesn’t seem fazed by _what_ exactly he’s cleaning, and the lack of embarrassment somehow helps soothe the nerves that are trying to fray themselves in Trevin’s mind. He groans lightly when the cloth passes over one of his nipples, already oversensitive under the drag of warm fabric. If Raleigh minds, he doesn’t show it. Except for a small huff of a laugh at the groan, he keeps his face schooled into a neutral expression, eyes focused on what he’s doing. After his chest, Raleigh moves the cloth up to his neck, one hand gently tipping Trevin’s chin for better access. He complies without thought.

“I was the same way when I got Yancy back.”

Trevin doesn’t jump, far too pliant. Instead, he hums under his breath. Acknowledging the words for what they are.

“I was so scared I was going to do something to screw it up, that I was was going to push him to try to do something before he was ready. Instead, I pushed _myself_ further than I probably should’ve.”

Raleigh’s eyes do track up to his face then, but only for a moment before they focus back on what his hands are doing.

“I think my biggest fear was that I was going to wake up and he’d be gone. That either it’d all been a dream, or, after all that time, that things had just,” he shrugs, “changed. That he wouldn’t feel the same way anymore. That who I am now wouldn’t be good enough or what he wanted or—”

 He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. The washcloth moves to the back of Trevin’s neck, wiping at the sweat drying there.

“I did some really stupid things. Didn’t sleep for three days straight once because I’d convinced myself that it was all in my head. Passed right the fuck out when Yance blew me that third night.” A small smile flits at the corners of Raleigh’s mouth. “He was _so_ pissed the next day, though.”

Trevin hums again, Raleigh moving from his neck back down his chest again. Neither of them say anything for a while, the sounds of their breathing and the scrape of wet cloth over skin filling the room. At one point, Raleigh gets up to wring the cooling washcloth out, bringing it back warm once again. When he goes to move lower, Trevin nods without being prompted, earning himself a soft sigh and a smile. Once his abdomen is clean, Raleigh re-wets the cloth again, holding it out.

“I figure you don’t want me to, y’know,” he looks pointedly down at Trevin’s crotch, a huff of laughter leaving his lips as he glances back up at him through his lashes, “unless you do?”

Trevin’s breath catches in his throat, and he’s suddenly much less tired than he had been a moment ago. He doesn’t need to be in Raleigh’s head to know what he’s saying.

“I-I, uh,” he has to swallow, “I mean, I,” swallows again, rubbing at his eyes and thinking. If it were literally anyone else—anyone other than Raleigh fucking Becket—saying that to him, the answer would be easy. Would be immediate. But…

But it’s Raleigh Becket. And he and Bruce have talked about this. Once upon a time. And, sure, they would always joke with Gipsy’s crew about the foursome the media liked to pretend they were having, some sort of sordid love affair or something, but, really, if Trevin’s honest with himself, it’s not as if there’s _nothing_ there. Not as if the jokes were completely empty of meaning of feeling. Not as if there hasn’t been some kernel of truth to all of them, something that Trevin is sure Raleigh and Yancy have been quietly mulling over the same way he and Bruce have. After all, would Raleigh be offering if that weren’t true?

A million possible answers race through his mind, but the one that finally ends up coming out past all the babbling is, “You’re _serious_?”

Raleigh’s answering laugh, bright and happy, is how Trevin finds himself back on his bed less than two minutes later. More comfortable, he’d argued. Raleigh stands at the side of the bed, a small basin of warm water and a few towels at his feet, washcloth in hand. Trevin carefully maneuvers over to Bruce, dutifully avoiding the parts of his brother that are still tacky and also trying to hide the dull twinges of pain his backside still radiates up his spine. Once he’s hovering above his brother, he strokes Bruce’s cheek until he sees those slivers of reflected light gazing back up at him.

“Trev’?”

“Are you okay with Raleigh cleaning you up, love?” he whispers over his brother’s lips, bringing their mouths together in a dry press.

Bruce hums through the kiss, words slurred with sleep, eyes slipping shut.

“Mm, yeah, sounds _great_.”

“All of you?” Trevin prods, just to be sure.

Bruce nods, humming out a happy-sounding, “Mmhmm,” and nuzzling at Trevin’s nose. “S’he gonna do you, too?”

“Yeah, Bruce, he is.”

“Mm, can I watch?”

As he huffs out a laugh, Trevin distinctly hears Raleigh suck in a harsh breath behind them.

 “‘Course you can.”

 

———

 

The next morning, Trevin wakes before Bruce. Lets himself breathe in his brother’s scent in the sheets for a few lazy moments, relishes in the feeling of his brother’s arms draped over him, before he extricates himself as gently as he can. He gets a soft feeling of loss at the back of his mind, but shifting his own pillow until Bruce can cuddle into it settles his brother back down. Looks around the room at the clothes strewn everywhere. Sighs to himself and rummages in the dresser until he comes out with an old pair of sweats with Romeo Blue’s lightning bolt decorating the left hip.

Romeo meets him at the bottom of the steps, mewling softly.

“Morning, gorgeous,” she mewls again as he leans down to lift her into his arms, a soft rebuke. “I know. Sorry you got kicked out of your bedroom last night. We only did it to protect your little sensibilities, I promise.”

She makes a lower mowling sound, quieter, as close to forgiveness as he’s sure they’re going to get. Settles herself in his grip as he makes his way towards the kitchen, but jumps down once he’s there. Raleigh is leaning against the counter by the sink, sweat-soaked in an undershirt and shorts. He’s staring pensively at the glass in his hands, half full of what Trevin thinks is probably orange juice. Romeo winds about his legs, getting a smile out of him before he looks up and catches sight of Trevin on the other side of the island.

“Hey,” Raleigh offers, downing the last of his drink in a single swallow. Trevin tries not to notice the beads of sweat that trace his adam’s apple but fails miserably. What he means to say is a “hey” back in greeting, try to keep things as non-awkward as possible and diffuse some of the tension clinging to everything like static electricity. Instead, though, what comes out of his mouth is,

“Raleigh, do you ever sleep?”

That earns him a snort as Raleigh turns back to the sink, rinsing his glass out.

“You sound like Yancy.”

“Maybe that’s because we both care about you.”

He hadn’t meant for the words to leave his mind, to give voice to the thought that had immediately followed. It seems to have been the right thing to say, though, because Raleigh sighs, his back still turned, and puts the glass down in the sink, turning off the water and drying his hands on his shorts. When his eyes meet Trevin’s, they’re full of something he can’t quite place, and, jesus, when did things get so complicated in the past three days?

“Look, about about last night,” Raleigh starts, looking down, and Trevin can’t help the immediate thought of _obvious deflection_ , “I’m really sorry if I overstepped or anything. I-I don’t want you to feel like I took advan—”

“Raleigh,” he gets no small pulse of satisfaction at the way Raleigh’s mouth snaps shut, “you’re fine. I actually wanted to thank you for last night. For your understanding. And for your words. They,” Trevin takes a breath, stepping up to the island, fingers splaying on the cool surface, “they helped put things in perspective.”

Raleigh nods back, mouth still tightly shut.

“As for what happened last night,” it’s impossible to miss the way Raleigh’s jaw tenses at his words, “it’s fine. You’re fine. You didn’t overstep or take advantage. We’re all consenting adults, and, besides, it was,” he searches for the right word, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before deciding, “nice. It was nice.”

“So does that mean—”

“It means whatever you want it to,” Trevin cuts him off. “Whatever you _and Yancy_ are comfortable with it meaning.”

There’s silence while Raleigh’s brows pinch together, eyes going unfocused. Trevin waits for a count of five before breaking the silence.

“Speaking of which, what were you two planning on doing,” he makes a vague gesture between them, “now?”

“Oh, uh, well,” Raleigh’s cut off when Romeo hops up on the counter beside him, rubbing against his arm and demanding attention. “I kind of want to go traveling. See the world like we did when we were kids, but, y’know,” he smiles down at Romeo, turning the expression on Trevin, and for a moment Trevin’s reminded of just how _young_ Raleigh is, of how much of his youth was stolen by the damn war, “actually appreciate it this time.”

“Don’t go,” Trevin blushes at the quick desperation that’d been buried in the word, but keeps going, “I-I mean, not yet. At least not until New Year’s. It’s only a few days and you and Yancy shouldn’t spend it alone. Well,” he feels his mouth twist even as Raleigh’s eyes light up, “not _alone_ , but you know what I mean—”

“Relax, Trev’,” as seems to have become a common theme these past few days, Raleigh’s laughing at him. “I get what you mean. I’ll have to ask Yancy, but I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

Another laugh. Romeo mowls, headbutting Raleigh’s elbow.

“Yeah, Trev’. That’s a yes. And, don’t worry,” he adds, looking back from where he’d turned to give Romeo the love she’d been demanding, “Yance ‘n I enjoy your company, too.”

Trevin blushes even darker.

“I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to.”

Which is how they end up asking the Beckets to stay a second time.

 

———

 

Somehow, it feels almost like nothing’s changed. Except, now, Trevin notices things.

He notices the way Yancy will sling his arm around Bruce’s shoulders when they both take a break from the calisthenics Raleigh’s got them doing to get back to where they used to be.

He notices how Raleigh smiles at both him and Bruce, open and carefree, almost exactly the same way he will at Yancy.

He notices how he starts to get a tug in his chest whenever either of the Beckets enter the room, the sensation over twenty years familiar. Just as he notices a warm humming coming over his connection to Bruce whenever Raleigh or Yancy are around.

He notices how Raleigh’s learned how each of them take their coffee and hot chocolate, how he’ll make up a fresh pot for them before his morning jog and lay out everything they normally use.

He notices the looks all of them pass one another, full of so much meaning that none of them are putting into words.

He knows he should feel something profound, whether it’s some sweeping, grand emotion or the desire to protect his brother—the one person he’s always professed to love more than life itself—from the advances of others. Yet all he can feel is a sense of inevitability. And, maybe, something that feels a lot like relief.

 

———

 

“So, what do _you_ think of Rals’ little scheme?”

Trevin looks up from his laptop, cutting his email off mid-sentence, cocking his head at Yancy.

“What d’you mean?”

Yancy gestures with his spoon to where Raleigh is helping Bruce through a series of stretches in the living room. Trevin’s first thought is that the two of them look... _right_ together, somehow, Raleigh bending over his brother to help him reach that last half inch that makes Bruce grunt with exertion. There’s still a brief bolt of shame that shocks through him, given that he’s always thought of Raleigh and Yancy as an item unto themselves—before, he’s recently found out, they’d even actually been one. When he looks back at Yancy, it’s to find the other man giving him an intent look, scooping another spoonful of cheerios—and, oh, _that_ had been a fun conversation on all sides, with Bruce and Raleigh teaming up against Yancy and Trevin over whether cereal should be sweet or not—without looking.

“Raleigh’s plans.”

Trevin blinks. Blinks again.

“You mean how he wants to travel the world?”

He gets a nod.

“Yeah. That. Thoughts?”

No matter how much he tries to gauge Yancy’s words, his tone, Trevin comes up blank. To buy himself time, he saves his email and then shuts his laptop’s screen down, the holographic display winking out of existence. Folds the now-empty emitters back into the base, steepling his fingers over the winking lights of his keyboard.

“I think it sounds like something he’s really into,” he finally says. “From what he told me about the trips your parents took you on, he had a lot of fun as a kid but doesn’t feel like he got to truly _experience_ the places he went.”

Yancy nods at him, making a ‘go on’ gesture with his spoon when Trevin lapses into silence for a few seconds.

“I think,” he gnaws at the inside of his cheek, “I think it’ll be good for him. To let him have that while you’re both still young and have the means to do it. I mean,” he makes a vague gesture at Yancy with his hands, not even quite sure what he’s trying to convey, “he has you. And it sounds like Raleigh’s never really felt tied down anywhere anyway, just...to you. And so long as you’re with him, it should be good for him, I think.”

“Hmm,” is all Yancy gives him as an answer, scooping another spoonful of cereal and chewing slowly. His eyes slide to the side, and Trevin follows them to see Raleigh sitting flush with Bruce’s back, obviously containing a laugh, a low thrum of embarrassment and a thrill of arousal coming across the link from Bruce. Trevin’s fairly certain he catches the ghost of the words, “It’s okay, it happens,” but when he prods Bruce for confirmation all he gets is the mental equivalent of a half-hearted glare.

“It’s a stupid idea.”

Frowning, Trevin glances back up at Yancy to find the older Becket still not looking at him.

“Really?”

A nod. When he doesn’t get anything else, Trevin sighs through his nose. Feels the creases in his forehead deepen.

“Any reason why?”

That at least gets Yancy to look at him. He jerks his thumb over to Bruce and Raleigh, Raleigh helping Bruce to his feet with a grin. Trevin can’t hear the exact words Raleigh’s using, but he can get the gist of it, especially with the encouraging grin Bruce is getting and the light feeling rising in his stomach.

“Because _that_ ,” Yancy points, this time with his finger, “is Raleigh.”

Trevin stares. Opens his mouth to speak, thinks better of it, and closes it. Blinks. Ends up just cocking his head to the side and frowning to convey his confusion. Yancy sighs loudly at him.

“ _That_ ,” again with the pointing, “is my brother. That is _not_ who woke me up.”

Understanding is ghosting at the edge of Trevin’s mind, just out of reach. He knows there’s _some_ thing being said here, something Yancy’s trying to tell him, and the other man’s tone is chilling enough that a cold weight curls in his gut.

“Then,” he swallows, licks his lips, “who did?”

“What was it like?” Yancy fires back instead. “When you woke up and thought Bruce was gone, before you figured out,” he waves between Trevin and Bruce, “that you two were still together, sort of? When you thought Bruce was dead and you were never going to hear his voice again? Never get to hold him, tell him you loved him, feel—”

“It was horrible,” Trevin interrupts him, feels his nails biting into the meat of his palms from where his hands have curled themselves into fists on the tabletop. “It was the most hopeless I’ve ever felt in my life. I didn’t want to keep going if it meant I couldn’t have him with me. I—” he takes a breath, holds it, before whispering, “I wanted to die.”

Yancy nods.

“Now imagine that was your life for over five years. That you’d gotten Bruce’s body back but that the doctors insisted that he’d never wake up, that he was a vegetable. No meaningful brain activity, no mental link, nothing. Just, gone.”

“Yancy, please,” his voice is soft, pleading, and Trevin can see the way Yancy’s eyes widen incrementally. The way he nods slightly, as if in confirmation.

“When I woke up, Raleigh wasn’t...he was a mess. He didn’t laugh, barely smiled, didn’t tell jokes. He didn’t care about anything except surviving to the next day and keeping me happy however he could. He,” Yancy takes a shuddering breath, though Trevin can’t see any tears, “he broke himself to take care of me while I was...out. Because he couldn’t imagine doing anything else, anything less.”

There are tears then, and Trevin doesn’t even think about it. Doesn’t question the motivations or the intentions. follows what his body is screaming at him to do and moves around the table, leaning down to wrap his arms around Yancy’s shoulders. They don’t shake, but Trevin can feel rapidly-cooling warmth soaking into his shoulder.

“He broke himself for me,” Yancy repeats, voice hard but wavering, “and he hasn’t given himself any time to really _heal_ from what happened, from what he did. He’s just focused on me, on getting me better.”

“But then what’s wrong with this travelling plan?” Trevin rubs at Yancy’s back, tucks his face into the crook of the other man’s neck for a moment. “Sounds to me like it’s the first thing Raleigh’s wanted for himself for a while. Besides, I mean,” he shifts his head, catching sight of Raleigh helping Bruce up onto the couch, grinning the whole way, “it seems like he’s doing better. Hell, I’m pretty sure he made a knock knock joke at Bruce not even ten minute ago. So, what is it, then?”

Yancy breathes against his neck for a moment before breaking the silence.

“It’s you.”

Trevin feels his entire body stiffen involuntarily before he forces himself to relax, pulls back but keeps hold of Yancy’s shoulders.

“You and Bruce,” Yancy adds, which, of course, makes absolutely nothing any clearer. He’s looking at his hands, glancing up at Trevin every couple of seconds. “He’s only been like-like _this_ ,” he tilts his head towards his brother, “since we got here. Once we were sure it’d worked for me, once he started sleeping again at night, he was _so_ excited to share it with you guys. Give you two something back for all the times you stood up for us, especially after, well,” Yancy shrugs at him, the expression somehow helpless, and Trevin nods, doesn’t need either of them to go any further down that road. He remembers those days, even if Yancy doesn’t.

“So then what—”

“He’s not ready,” Yancy cuts him off, finally holding his eyes, some deeper meaning bleeding from his irises. “He thinks he is, but...he hasn’t gotten any better until we came here. He’s not _ready_. And he can’t see that because he can’t see past me. He can’t—”

Yancy actually sniffles then, and it breaks something in Trevin’s heart. He pulls Yancy back into his arms, cradling the other man’s head against his chest. Another sniffle drifts up through his shirt.

“He can’t see that he needs _you_ two, not me.”

“No, Yancy,” Trevin cards his fingers through Yancy’s hair, finds himself surprised at how _soft_ it is, “Raleigh needs you. He’ll always need you, no matter what. Maybe...”

He lets himself trail off, casts his eyes back over to their brothers, now arm-to-arm on the couch, Bruce’s head on Raleigh’s shoulder. Trevin can hear their voices as soft rumbles at the back of his awareness. Wonders what they’re talking about, but doesn’t pry.

“Maybe he needs all of us. Hell, maybe,” he gives voice to the thought as it occurs to him, feeling more right than anything has in a long time, “maybe we all need each other.”

 

———

 

“Why do you have to live in _California_?”

Yancy swats at Raleigh, the sounds of the rain pounding on the tent loud in the confined space.

“Be nice, kiddo.”

“What’s wrong?” Bruce’s grin is taunting, “can’t handle getting a little wet, Rals?”

Raleigh shakes his head.

“Why did we have to come out here to get rained on when it’s _New Year’s_?”

“Tradition,” Trevin answers, showing the kid his teeth before he goes back to rifling through his bag for his damn lantern. He knows they don’t _really_ need it, since the one Bruce brought is shining plenty bright for all of them, but, well, it never hurts to be prepared, right? He also may or may not be regretting that last shot of tequila the brothers had forced down his throat, since everything feels slightly fuzzy and he seems to be having some difficulty getting his hands to cooperate the way he wants them to.

“Our parents took us out here all the time for special occasions, and after the fire we figured it was only fair that we share some of our own traditions with you.”

“But what about _fireworks_?”

A rumble of thunder rolls through the tent. Bruce laughs.

“There, happy?”

“Shut up, old man. It’s not the same.”

“Oh, I’ll show _you_ ‘old man’,” Bruce growls, grin positively feral as he gets to his feet—maybe the tequila makes him stumble a step, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s only been on his feet for about a week—and tackles Raleigh towards the tent flap. They both disappear, Raleigh with a cry of surprise, and Bruce with a victorious little shout that Trevin hears and feels. He gives up on the stupid lantern, leaning back against his sleeping bag and looking over towards Yancy who just shakes his head, smiling.

“At least we got the tarps and everything set up before this all started.” He cranes his neck towards Trevin. “Think we should go after them?”

Trevin glances down at his watch—a waterproof little thing he’d found in their old room two days ago when he’d been helping Raleigh and Yancy pack for the trip out to Folsom—and shrugs.

“We’ve got about an hour before midnight. I guess we don’t want them wandering _too_ far away. Besides,” he feels his mouth stretch into a lazy grin, “you know what they say about New Year’s, right?”

“That it’s a shitty excuse of a holiday whose only purpose is to get people drunk?”

“Says the man who brought the alcohol,” Trevin counters, something in his gut—probably the booze, he tells himself—stirring at the way Yancy tips his head back and laughs. “No, I mean what they say about how you spend midnight on New Year’s.”

“So shitfaced you can’t remember it?”

“No,” Trevin huffs, wriggling until he’s sitting up, elbows on his knees, “that however you bring in the new year is how you’re going to spend the rest of the year.” He waves his hands emphatically. “It’s why you spend it with friends and having fun and making out with the person you love the most, because it means you’ll spend the rest of the year with friends, having fun, and making out with the person you love most.”

Yancy stares at him for a moment, something calculating in his eyes, before,

“Is that why this means so much to you? This trip? This New Year’s?”

Without even thinking about it, Trevin finds himself nodding, finds his mouth forming words.

“I have Bruce back. This’ll mean I get to keep him. And you’ll get to keep Rals, too. Smiling, and laughing, and _happy_.”

A flurry of emotions pass over Yancy’s face, too fast for Trevin to read them, before he eventually settles on a smile.

“You’re right, Trev’.” He stands, offers his hand. Trevin takes it without thinking, tries to ignore the way his stomach flips as he gets to his feet, or the way everything seems not as stable as it’d been when he was sitting. So maybe he stumbles forward a half step once he’s actually got his feet under him, and it’s totally because the tent isn’t tall enough he tells himself. And maybe it’s Yancy’s hands, grip maybe still not as strong as it’d been once upon a time but definitely strong _enough_ , that catch him, that bracket his shoulders with a laugh.

Maybe warmth spreads through his whole body when he realizes that Yancy’s face is close enough that Trevin can count the faded freckles that dot his nose. Can see in the dim side-light that Yancy’s eyelashes are actually red-blond, not just blond, and that his eyes have glacial flecks of gray-blue hidden in their stormy depths. Can practically feel the heat the other man’s body is radiating against his skin. Can see the shadows stretch across Yancy’s face as his smiles widens, as his dimples take shape. Can make out a scar on his upper lip, a thin line unwavering from top to bottom, the skin over it stretching bloodless across grinning teeth. Can almost—

Trevin swallows, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Let’s go make them happy,” Yancy finishes, squeezing his hand and pulling him out into the storm.

Raleigh and Bruce are still, apparently, chasing one another around the otherwise abandoned beach, screaming obscenities and threats between them as they sling water and sand behind their footfalls. Lightning shatters the sky above their heads, illuminating everything in an otherworldly, blue glow for a moment, before the lamps reflecting off the clouds are their only light again. It’s only when the relative darkness presses at him again that Trevin realizes he’s still holding Yancy’s hand. He glances over at the other man, and catches him in the middle of a laugh that’s drowned in the roar of thunder, head thrown back, free arm spread wide, revelling in the chaos of it all.

 _He’s beautiful_.

He doesn’t realize he’s sent the thought over his link to Bruce until his brother’s amusement pulses back at him, purposeful and accompanied by a message.

 _About time you woke up and noticed. Idiot_.

Trevin blinks, something so hot it feels like he’s freezing searing through his bones. Blinks again to find Yancy staring at him, glancing at their still-clasped hands then back up. Raleigh chases Bruce scant feet past them, and Trevin has to turn his head or risk sandy spray to the face. Yancy laughs again, probably at his expression Trevin thinks, before tugging at his arm, tilting his head after the two men currently behaving like five year olds.

“Shall we go join the children?”

Lightning cracks right above them, arcing from one cloud to the next, to the next, the thunder reverberating off Trevin’s bones, and it pulls a surprised cry out of him, adrenaline spiking in his veins. Leaves him giggling, eyes staring wide at the sky before falling back to earth to Yancy once more. He nods.

Something akin to an impromptu game of tag ensues, as best Trevin can tell. They each take turns chasing one another up and down the beach, barely managing to avoid the few places where rocks have begun to peek through the sand. At some point, Raleigh complains that the rain is making his shirt too heavy—

“Shouldn’t’ve worn a _sweater_ , then,” Trevin taunts him from where he’s got Raleigh pinned to the sand, the other man squirming beneath him.

“Fuck you, old man—”

“No, fuck _you_.”

“—anywhere _normal_ it’s freezing this time of year.”

—and he decides that, of course, the best option is to peel it from his rain-slicked skin, drivesuit scars stark in the darkness. Trevin’s not quite prepared for the molten heat that fills his belly at the sight, or for the resonant pulses of desire that drift to him from Bruce. Which means that when Raleigh grins ferally at him, trading glances with Yancy, they both have him on his back, water seeping cold through his clothes and lightning staining his retinas, before he can even think about it.

“No fair using distraction tactics!” Bruce shouts over the din, but makes no move to help him. Nor does he object when Raleigh and Yancy share yet another look and grip the bottom of Trevin’s t-shirt, lifting it off of him and eyeing him hungrily. If anything, the desire trevin feels from him intensifies, which, well. He can get behind that.

“You’re overdressed,” he speaks to Yancy, but turns his head towards Bruce to let his brother know he’s included too, raising an eyebrow and smirking as best as he can.

“I think we’re all overdressed,” Raleigh quips, a flash of lightning illuminating the wild light at the back of his eyes that Trevin remembers so well, had thought lost almost seven years ago. When the thunder rumbles over them, he stands from his spot above Trevin, and reaches down to his belt, undoing the buckle.

“How do you guys feel about skinny-dipping?”

“Fuck the hell yes,” Trevin’s mouth moves before he gives it permission, but _oh_ is that a completely honest answer. He sees Yancy’s smirk from the corner of his eye, his gaze focused entirely on Raleigh undoing the button of his pants.

Bruce is, of course, the one with an objection.

“Are you crazy? _Swimming_? In a _thunderstorm_?”

“Not like we haven’t done it before,” Yancy retorts easily, eyes devouring his baby brother along with Trevin.

“Fighting in a jaeger in a thunderstorm is not—”

Bruce’s objection chokes off to nothing at the smile Raleigh sends the three of them, the expression all heat as he hooks his thumbs through his belt loops, the tips hooking around the top of the pants. In a move fit for a goddamn porno, he steps out of his remaining clothing in one fluid motion.

And, of fucking course, he’s hard as a rock, cock bouncing against his abs with an audible slap once it’s freed before coming to rest.

 _And_ , because it’s Raleigh, he takes off running towards the choppy water, shouting something over his shoulder that gets swallowed in the wind but that Trevin is _fairly_ certain has something to do with blowing him.

The three of them are undressed, dashing towards the water after Raleigh, so fast that Trevin barely even remembers it. He does remember the feeling of euphoria that surges through his veins, lending everything a dream-like quality, some part of his mind even going to far as to wonder if any of this is real or some kind of dream he’s yet to wake from. No sooner has that thought occurred to him than they’re in the water, gasping at the cold of it compared to the heat of the California air. Something catches him around the ankles, and Trevin has enough time to suck in a breath before he’s pulled under, pushes himself back up, sputtering, to find Raleigh grinning at him.

He has the perfect angle to watch as Yancy rears up in the water behind his younger brother, catching him off guard and savagely dunking him. Trevin only manages to get out a quick, “Ha!” before he feels hands around his biceps and the world is tilting backwards.

 _Goddamnit_ , he thinks at Bruce, _I’m gonna get you. Ass._

Smug satisfaction is his only answer, and he rises back above the water just in time to make out his brother swimming away from him.

“Oh no you don’t!” he shouts, but only manages to get about five feet before he feels _two_ sets of arms taking hold of him.

“Are you fucking—” he manages to get out before his mouth is full of lakewater. He spits it in Yancy’s face when he comes back up for air. The Beckets take one look at him and both start swimming away.

“That’s right, you _better_ run!”

Yancy dunks his brother to make his escape, and Trevin pounces on Raleigh just as he surfaces. Serves him right.

He’s not sure how long they keep their game up, all he knows is that amid the chaos his watch—apparently the waterproofing is still good—beeps at him that it’s midnight just as he and Bruce both manage to team up on the Beckets and dunk them simultaneously. They wait for the brothers to re-emerge, Raleigh spitting water at him like a goddamn child.

“Happy new year!”

And, of course, a crack of lightning punctuates their words perfectly. The Beckets both look at them, faces positively glowing as Trevin hits the button and illuminates his watch’s display, showing them the small, digital 12:00a.

“So it’s that time?” Yancy asks them, eyes darting between Trevin and Bruce. Trevin nods. Yancy glances over at his brother, the two of them exchanging knowing grins.

“To kiss the person we want to spend the rest of the year with, right? Just to be sure?”

“Oh my god, _yes_ ,” Trevin waves a hand at them as he takes a step towards Bruce, “kiss your brother already.”

Bruce snorts at him. “Right because that’s what _everyone_ expects to hear on New Year’s.”

“Shut up,” Trevin breathes into his mouth with a smile, hands cupping his brother’s skull and pulling them together. Something in his mind, in his shoulders, running down his spine, something that he hadn’t even known had been pulled taut before, just...relaxes. Eases back into place like a piece of a puzzle that’s been worn in, the jagged edges smoothed out. He hums into the kiss, feels Bruce doing the same.

Feels hands on his shoulders that aren’t Bruce. And, somehow, it doesn’t feel wrong. Doesn’t feel like a surprise. Doesn’t feel crowded, just like more pieces to the puzzle, pieces Trevin hadn’t even known were a part of the set, are slotting into place. Without missing a beat, he tilts his head to the side and back, feels a mouth—Raleigh, he’s fairly certain—slot over his own, tongue probing at his lips. He lets it in, moans in the back of his throat, suddenly aware that Bruce’s body is pressed to his front and Raleigh to his back and he can feel how fucking hard _both_ of them are. Can taste Yancy’s lips, Yancy’s tongue as a phantom, mixing with the remnants of Bruce left behind and Raleigh.

Trevin’s fairly certain he’s never been more aroused in his life.

He’s not sure how or when, but they swap, Raleigh leaning over Trevin’s shoulder to engage Bruce while Trevin leans over his brother to meet Yancy. To make the phantom that much more real. The waves pull their bodies back and forth, but their arms wind about one another, binding them together as lightning crackles and thunder roars. Trevin is almost positive that their heartbeats are in sync as they remain, naked against the elements, standing together.

 

———

 

“So, we know things got kind of, ah, crazy at New Year’s—”

“We all made out, Bruce, you can just say it. And it was also yesterday, so you could just say—”

“Rals, cut it out. They’re talking.”

“—and, I, uh, I know Trev’s told me that you want to go travelling and see the world and everything and, uh, well—”

“What Bruce is _trying_ and failing to say—”

“Oh for—fuck you, Trev’.”

“—later—is that we want you to stay. You don’t have to cancel your plans or anything, but, maybe. Uh. M-maybe you, uh—”

“Look who’s all tongue-tied _now_.”

“ _Fuck you_ , Bruce, shut _up_. _Maybeyoucouldconsiderthisyournewhome_ jesus there I said it are you happy? Ass.”

Silence for five of Trevin’s pounding heartbeats.

“I mean, Romeo really likes you, and, I mean, we'd really like you to stay, so—”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Rals, what’re you—”

“No, shut up, I’m serious. You’re _joking_ , right?”

“Uh, no?”

“Okay, fine, let me put this another way. Do you even have to ask?”

Silence again. Trevin scarcely allows himself to breathe.

“...So is that a yes?”

“Oh my god, _yes_ , that’s a yes. I swear to god, you two. Are idiots. Almost as big of idiots as Yancy.”

“Glass houses and stones, Rals.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Maybe we will. Bruce? Trev’? Care to help?”

“A-are you sur—”

The moan Raleigh lets out at whatever Yancy's doing to him, low and needy and definitely filled with all their names, is all the answer they need.

 

———

 

Just over an hour later, the four of them sweaty and tangled together on top of the blankets still piled by the fireplace, when Bruce and Trevin ask Raleigh and Yancy to stay for the fourth time, it’s with the knowledge that they will never have to ask again.

 

 


End file.
